


Tyger! Tyger!

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Maine and Carolina have their own way of burning off energy after a mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The RvB Bingo Wars challenge!

Carolina’s fingers scrape, blunt-nailed, against his scalp. Maine smiles, releases a soft huff of breath against her hip before he presses a kiss against the sharp curve of her hipbone. Her fingers grip harder for a moment, and she pushes his head down insistently, guiding him to right where she wants him. She lifts one leg to wrap around his shoulder and Maine savours it, the flex of her muscled calf against his back.

Maine breathes in deeply, nose pressed against her, and lets it out slowly in a way that makes her shiver and dig her foot against his back. Demanding. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

He grips her thigh, squeezing to feel firm muscle beneath his hand, before sliding it up between her legs to press against her. She’s already slick and she gives an aborted little moan when he presses his fingers up and inside, feels her clench around them. It’s a noise, a sensation that sends heat right to his cock. He ruts mindlessly against the bed for a second, winding himself more tightly, then drags his attention back to her with the same single-minded focus he usually reserves for missions.

He keeps his fingers hooked up inside her, twisting lazily, but presses his face closer against her so he can swipe a line with his tongue against her, to tease against her clit.

There’s no half choked off little sound this time. What he gets as he works his mouth against her, tasting her hot against his tongue, is a full throated moan. He can’t see, but can imagine her head thrown back against the pillow, throat long and bare. Can imagine the tendons on her arms and legs standing out as she fights to not just hold him there and fuck his face.

He wouldn’t mind if she did. Maybe next time she’ll do it, use him like that. Maybe she won’t let him move at all.

He shifts so that he can press his tongue inside her for a moment, settling into a rhythm. Not teasing, too impatient for that. Firm. Working her over between his fingers and his mouth, the press of lips and tongue and the softest scrape of teeth against her inner thigh. Her hand curves against the back of his neck, squeezing and releasing along with him. Her breath, the harsh noises she makes, it’s like he can hear everything and he burns it into his memory.

He’s hard, been hard practically since she gave him that searing look after training, and then he’d known what was coming. Would’ve got down on his knees right there in the locker room, rest of the fuckers in there be damned. The heat of his arousal seems to seep through him from her body, as though he’s absorbing it through his hands and his mouth so it fills him and fuck, how can he not moan when she’s wrapped ‘round him like this, holding him in place to focus on her, all her. It’s always her.

She rolls her hips up to press against him, and that’s how he knows she’s close. Everything about her tightens, the same way she does when she’s bracing for a fight, before she loses herself in fluid violence. He doubles his effort, throws his everything into it. Loses himself in the taste of her, the flex of muscles, the scrape of nails, the swelling heat against his tongue until she goes stiff against him, grip locked against his neck while she moves raggedly against his mouth, dragging her own pleasure out of him before finally, falling back against the bed.

Maine flicks his tongue out again, milking that last bit of pleasure out of her until she strokes a hand over his head and pulls him away.

He kneels back, looking down at the dishevelled and glorious mess that he’s made from her. Her hair is stuck to her forehead and she’s flushed and her lips are swollen from biting them. He watches the heavy rise and fall of her chest and rocks his weight between his knees, very aware of his own arousal straining between his legs.

“C'mere Maine,” she says, her voice ragged and breathless still. He can never decide if he likes that voice more than he likes her voice in the midst of battle. Doesn’t matter. He gets both. He gets both and he obeys now, clambering up along her body, legs splayed either side of her. She doesn’t like to wait.

She hooks an arm around his shoulders and drags him down into a harsh kiss. His lips are still damp with her and she doesn’t care. Forces her tongue into his mouth, holds his head still as though he’d ever try to pull away when she’s stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Her free hand, oh fuck, slides down his chest to wrap 'round his cock. Her fingers are cold after the furnace of her that he’d buried his face against.

She swallows down his moan as she starts to stroke him. Her grip is firm, he can feel the strength in it. Wants to whimper at the memory of the damage she’s done with those hands, the people she’s killed. She could break him and part of him wants her to, just to see what it would feel like.

He curls his fingers against the bedcovers and doubles down on kissing her, movements becoming more erratic, less controlled as she flicks her thumb against the tip of his cock, smears beaded wetness against it. He won’t last long. Never does. Might feel embarrassed except that it’s her and she undoes him like no-one else.

She drinks down the sounds that he makes so they never see the light of day. Maine bucks his hips against her hand desperately. She nips his lip in rebuke and Maine forces himself into stillness. He’s good at still. Good at still every place but here, every time but now.

Now, it’s all he can do not to break down and beg. Might do anyway. Thinks it would be worth it to beg her.

Her hand tightens and she squeezes his cock, not too hard but enough to drag a breathless noise from his lips. Might as well be a sob from him, a broken down plea for release.

“Tell me,” she says. Her voice rasps goosebumps across his flesh, and a shiver that works along his spine.

“Please.”

Her smile is felt against his lips, razor sharp.

She twists her hand, strokes him, and all he can do is endure and hope she’ll release him soon. Knows that he doesn’t really want that.

He comes with a grunt, hips jerking and she kisses the breath out of him along with his orgasm. It spreads through his body, a lingering warmth. Better than any hot shower, any massage. Any satisfaction from a flawless mission. And finally, finally, when his brain sparks back to consciousness, when he can breathe again, she pulls him insistently down onto the bed next to her. She wraps against his back like armour, and buries her face against the back of his neck.

He feels her contented little sigh. “You did well,” she murmurs.

The warmth from that lasts all night.


End file.
